


Come On Back and Kiss Me

by summerofspock



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Based on a Tumblr Post, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), First Time, Humor, M/M, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Crowley accidentally kisses Aziraphale goodbye, freaks out about it, and then finds out Aziraphale's been waiting for him to do it again.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 625





	Come On Back and Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вернись и поцелуй меня](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408003) by [stary_melnik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stary_melnik/pseuds/stary_melnik), [WTF Good Omens 2020 (team_Good_Omens)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/team_Good_Omens/pseuds/WTF%20Good%20Omens%202020)



> based off [this tumblr post](https://summerofspock.tumblr.com/post/189441454849/roman-kun-its-bound-to-happen-and-you-know-it) (a personal favorite) by roman kun 
> 
> written because im absolutely gone on these two and all my wips were being finicky and i was feeling some type of way
> 
> title from Bad Ideas by Tessa Violet which is an absolute bop

Crowley woke up on the couch in the back of the bookshop and scrubbed at his eyes. Based on the general lighting, he’d estimate it was about 2 pm. A good time to wake up from a nap. Plenty of time left in the day to make some trouble.

Stretching his arms up over his head, he groaned when his spine popped just right. Say what you wanted about the human form but stretching was _good_. He wiggled a bit to get comfortable in the cushions and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.

Now, what to do today?

Flipping through the news, he saw headlines about an old lady being saved by her dog, a stabbing downtown, the opening of a Chick-Fil-A franchise in Reading.

Ho-ho-ho. Bingo.

Mind running through possible sabotages, Crowley lighted on the fact that one of Aziraphale’s favorite bakeries was in Reading and Crowley could easily pop by and get one of the fruit buns the angel like so much. A little demonic mischief and an Aziraphale smile when he got back. A good day's work, that.

Swinging his feet off the couch, Crowley stood and gave his back another stretch. Still thumbing through his phone—maybe there were other opportunities out in Reading—Crowley moved around the bookcase and approached Aziraphale’s desk. The angel barely looked up when Crowley grunted a short hello.

Aziraphale only spared him a glance as he said, "Ah, you're awake." 

"Yep," Crowley said, half paying attention. It looked like there was construction on the M4. He could muck that up a bit on his way out.

"Are you going out?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley came up beside him to grab his keys from the desk.

Ooh, right, not just that bakery but also that curry joint. Would it be too much to come back with fruit buns _and_ curry? 

“Yeah, just a bit of demonic business,” Crowley replied. He tucked his keys into his pocket and opened up Maps. How far was Reading? Should be able to make it back in under an hour and keep the food warm.

“Will we still be able to do the Ritz tonight?” Aziraphale asked, eyes still on his papers. Right, the Ritz. Maybe not curry then.

“Of course, angel. Don’t worry,” Crowley said, placing his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder to squeeze it lightly. Maybe if he took the back roads…nah, he wanted to do something dastardly with that construction. Too good an opportunity to pass up.

Crowley leaned down and brushed his mouth over Aziraphale’s.

“Back in a couple hours,” Crowley said, stepping away, eyes still on his phone.

“Mind how you go,” Aziraphale said as he turned his attentions back to his catalogue.

It was only when he was halfway down the street that he realized he’d just kissed Aziraphale for the first time.

And back inside a Soho bookshop, an angel spilled tea on his otherwise immaculate waistcoat as the same realization hit.

* * *

It wasn’t that Crowley didn’t want to kiss Aziraphale. Point of fact, Crowley wanted to kiss Aziraphale all the time. Wanted to kiss him when he walked into the bookshop, before he walked out of it, when Aziraphale stepped into his flat, when the angel smiled over dinner. Every time Aziraphale touched him, Crowley wanted to kiss him.

It was just a thing. A fact. Old as anything. 

But any idea that Aziraphale wanted to kiss Crowley back had been thoroughly stifled when the world didn’t end, and Aziraphale was _free_ to kiss him but still hadn’t. Proof enough that this whole kissing business was one-sided.

And then he had to bollocks up the whole thing by kissing Aziraphale by accident. 

* * *

Crowley did not go to Reading. He sent off an anonymous email to Reading Pride and knew those kids would do the job. No corporate-funded homophobia on their watch.

Instead, Crowley drove out into the country far too fast, listening to _You’re My Best Friend_ on repeat because the blasted Bentley thought it was funny and wouldn’t let Crowley change the song. 

When the sun began to set, Crowley realized he wasn’t going to be able to avoid Aziraphale forever. 

And they had a date.

Well, not a date.

An appointment.

Whatever.

Groaning, Crowley turned the car around and drove back to London, dreading his reception enough that he even obeyed the speed limit.

* * *

Aziraphale didn’t say anything when Crowley got to the bookshop. He just shrugged on his coat and showed Crowley to the door, same as always.

They drove to the Ritz in silence and Aziraphale still didn’t say anything.

The Bentley played _Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy_ no matter how many times Crowley shut off the radio. And when the waiter brought champagne to their usual table, Crowley was suddenly stuck by how romantic the whole thing was and he had the sudden urge to leap up and run from the room.

Aziraphale opened his mouth. Crowley braced himself. 

_My dear, about earlier…_

“I found a whole stack of poetry books in my back room that I had forgotten about. Did you know I had them marked down as lost?” Aziraphale said lightly.

Crowley stared. Were they just…

Were they just not going to talk about it?

Swallowing thickly, Crowley said, “Not hard to believe. The way you keep that place.”

“What are you saying?” Aziraphale asked, eyes narrowing. “Is that a comment on my organizational habits?”

“There’s a television program. It’s called _Hoarders_. Have you heard of it?”

* * *

They didn’t talk about it. A whole week passed. Then another. Crowley started to relax. Maybe it would just be one of those things they didn’t mention like when Crowley had fallen off a horse and ripped his trousers or when Aziraphale bought a vibrator thinking it was for neck massages.

That was fine. Better than fine.

So Crowley didn’t expect, when they went to sushi a month after The Incident, to share a carafe of sake and have Aziraphale pounce.

“You hear about the Chick-fil-A that was set to open in Reading? Shut down before it even opened,” Crowley said as his plate was put down in front of him. “I’m pretty proud of that one.”

There was silence for a moment while Crowley poured his soy sauce. It was nice to be able to spend time with Aziraphale like this, relaxed and friendly and—

“Well, are we going to talk about it or not?” Aziraphale demanded with no preamble, shoulders going up and down abruptly like he’d be stomping his foot if they were standing.

“Guh.” Crowley’s bite of unagi fell out of his mouth and hit his plate with a mocking plop.

“Don’t _guh_ me. You kissed me!”

“Well, I mean—define kiss. It was more—I dunno—sort of—wooooo,” Crowley stammered, the last sound a long, whistling breath. “I mean, yeesh and you were there. It was—”

“Can you not put together a sentence?” Aziraphale snapped. 

“Guh,” Crowley said again but this time it was more of a choked swallowing noise.

Aziraphale stared at him, gray eyes blazing. 

“I didn’t mean to?” Crowley asked on a wince. Based on the way Aziraphale’s nostrils flared, it was the wrong thing to say.

“What do you mean _you didn’t mean to_? That’s not how it works!” 

Crowley prickled at Aziraphale’s accusing tone. “You were there. You kissed me back. Was that an accident?”

“Of course not,” Aziraphale said fiercely. And then he clamped his mouth shut, cheeks turning pink.

Crowley felt a bit like he’d just shoved a whole dollop of wasabi into his mouth.

“Wait, did you...did you _want_ me to kiss you?”

“That’s not what I said,” Aziraphale huffed, looking down at his plate.

Crowley's brain started to click like an assembly line starting up as he tried to find a place for this new piece of information. 

“So if I, I dunno, did it again sometime, you’d like that?” Crowley ventured even as his entire body screamed in warning.

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered in surprise. “I mean, if you weren’t opposed…”

“Of course I’m not bloody opposed,” Crowley nearly shouted. A nearby waiter cleared his throat, reminding Crowley they were in public. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed and now he was looking at Crowley the way he looked at a particularly tantalizing dessert menu. 

“Perhaps we could...you know,” Aziraphale said with a significant glance at the door.

Crowley didn’t have to be asked twice.

It was then that, in an alley behind Matsumoto’s Premium Sushi—Freshest Tuna in London—a demon kissed an angel for the first time on purpose. And did a few other things too.

**Author's Note:**

> fun note: there is, in fact, construction on the M4 at the time of posting this fic. 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://summerofspock.tumblr.com)


End file.
